


Learning Curve

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars [69]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23909167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: Dogma just doesn't think about things the way it seems like everyone else does.  He finds commiseration in a very strange place.
Series: Soft Wars [69]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775
Comments: 58
Kudos: 670





	Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

> The LAST of my reel of WIP Dogma fics Huzzah! Not that I don't adore this boy's face but he's been interrupting my Blyla and Rex&Obi for the past 2 nights, and wouldn't even let me write my RexCara soft date last night, so he needs to be done now thx.

Sometimes Dogma wonders if he’s not a little bit defective after all.

It’s not the physical that bothers him. Dogma’s in just as good a shape as any other brother. Sure the Captain’s training is the next level and it leaves him sore and sweaty, but he can feel it working, feel himself getting stronger. Can see that he lasts a little longer, dodges a little faster. He’s not picking it up as fast as Hevy, but that’s fine. Dogma and Hevy are built different.

It’s not the physical that bothers him, and for the most part the cerebral is fine too. Dogma’s smart, he thinks. He’s got good recall, can connect dots over vastly different pieces of information, can tease out connotations from pages and pages of things unsaid.

Still, Dogma wonders if there’s something just not quite _right_ with him. Because other people seem to be able to think their way through these problems so easily, and Dogma just doesn’t understand.

If you’re given an order, why does it _matter_ who it is that gave the order, as long as they were authorized to do it? Why does it matter if they don’t have military experience or don’t speak the language or haven’t seen the layout on the ground? Why would that change how you react? A superior gave you an order, what do environmentals have to do with it?

Dogma chews on his stylus and glares at his holopad.

He doesn’t _have_ to do this. Lt. Jesse never grades these or anything, never even collects them. But they inevitably come up in conversation with Lt. Hardcase later, so the Officers are clearly talking about them in private. It’s a group discussion, so no one would _really_ know if Dogma had finished it. After months working with Crest Squad under Lt. Jesse, Dogma can spit banthashit on command like a professional.

But.

But Captain Rex always asks them to give their best effort, use their best judgment, leaves whether or not they’ve completed these exercises on their own personal honor.

The bunk springs creak in protest of his perfectly reasonable full body collapse. “You can show me yours if you let me show you mine,” he jokes.

Across the dorm there’s a startled silence, then a hesitant laugh.

Alarm rips through him like a rotary cannon through B1s.

Oh. Oh _fuck_ he forgot! It’s not _Droidbait_ stuck back here with Dogma, fighting through assignments while the rest of the squad goes to rec. For once, Droidbait _got this_. Dogma’s left with-

Dogma scrabbles to his feet, apologies already spilling. General Skywalker snickers from Fives’ bunk, wrapped around his own holopad.

“As you were,” he says and Dogma would _love to_ really but he just jokingly propositioned _the General_ and his ‘at ease’ wobbles like he’s about to faint.

He might be a little bit about to faint.

“If you pass out I’d have to resuscitate you,” General Skywalker warns and Dogma promptly sits down and attempts not to hyperventilate. He mustn’t seem very convincing: General Skywalker watches him with huge, worried eyes. He propositioned his superior and then made them anxious. As soon as Dogma’s legs are reliable, he’s going to go find himself a nice, friendly airlock. Stak can have his list of Obnoxious Metaphors awaiting Lt Jesse’s next report.

Dogma tries not to whimper, tries not to _think_ of what Captain Rex would do to someone propositioning his Jedi. There's a yawning spiral opening up inside his mind and - 

There’s a tap, just once, and it’s enough to tug his mind out of chasing the worst case down into panic.

A holopad floats above his leg, nudges against his knee like a small animal demanding attention. Almost despite himself, Dogma drags his eyes up. General Skywalker’s face is a little sheepish. “You wanted to see?” he says. “And I’m honestly… a little stuck.”

He’s not doing the Jedi Gestures, Dogma notes. Captain Rex and all of command had agreed that they were far too telegraphing and needed to go. For several tendays, General Skywalker had been required to levitate an increasing number of objects, and whichever troopers were close by were ordered to swat him if he did the Jedi Gestures. (Dogma never had. Never _could_.) Now the General doesn’t do them at all anymore. As expected: Officers pick things up quickly.

He doesn’t know how he knows the General has a grip on the holopad in his hands. The General isn’t so rude as to tug at it; for all intents it sits as if Dogma’s the only one holding on. But there’s just some strange edge of a buzz at the very tips of his fingers and he thinks, maybe, that it might be the Force.

The General is very strong, that even someone like _Dogma_ could feel when he uses it!

Carefully Dogma releases his hold on the holopad and isn’t surprised to see that it doesn’t waver. It drifts almost demurely over to settle in smoothly the General’s hands. Professionally done. Torrent’s General is powerful, but he’s precise too. They’re all always proud to be working for him, but in this moment Dogma feels the pride a little bit more personally. He’d watched the General grow into this, even if he didn’t have anything to do with helping.

The General’s own ‘pad stays hovering politely over Dogma’s knee until he grabs it.

“Every time,” the General muses, “I can’t help thinking how completely frivolous this is, using the Force like that.”

“Does the Force run out?” Dogma’s mouth wonders before his brain catches up. He cringes mentally. He’s gotten better at that, he _has_. He’s worked on it for ages! But sometimes he slips, and it’s usually the worst time possible. The General seems startled at the question. It was probably extremely impertinent. “I’m sorry sir! That wasn’t-”

“It doesn’t,” he answers, though the look he gives Dogma is strange. “The Force just is. The Universe will run out of matter first.”

That’s. Well, no one has ever explained anything about the Force to Dogma before. Most vode wouldn’t know, and it’s not like Dogma is typically carrying on theological conversations with Jedi.

Except for those times when, apparently, he is.

“Then,” he offers, hesitant. “Why would you need to ration it?”

He doesn’t know what look that is the General’s giving him. Dogma’s never been good at picking up facial cues, doubly so for people who don’t have his same face. “I don’t know,” the General answers slowly. “I don’t think I ever asked.”

Dogma curls around the holopad and ducks his head. It’s probably something you _shouldn’t_ be asking. Dogma can add ‘organized religion’ to the list of things he doesn’t understand. And he can add ‘questioning the Jedi doctrine’ to the list of things he’s screwed up today.

He’d _thought_ he’d gotten better at figuring out what things he should question and what he shouldn’t. Once upon a time he’d thought there were extremely limited instances of the former while the latter was fairly universal. Working with Lt. Jesse had changed that, some. Lt. Jesse always seemed to think he should be questioning _more_. Dogma isn’t sure how much more he _can_ question, without seriously deserving reprimand. Lt. Jesse never really seems to care much about reprimands. It’s funny: The Captain never really seems to reprimand him.

Something else Dogma doesn’t understand.

As expected, the General isn’t working on the same type of problems Dogma is. “Field protocol?” he wonders. Straight from the protocol manual too, the page and paragraph cites are intact, where most derived references don’t bother. Dogma kept his copy of the original that they issued in training. He’s never told anyone; it seemed like no one else had.

“Protocol implementation in response to field incidents, focusing on scenarios coded Orange and above.”

But. But that’s…. “A refresher?” he asks. Hopes. It’s distressingly basic. He’d been learning this directly out of his second growth cycle, until his stretched muscles and aching joints had settled and his class could be trusted not to injure themselves on courses.

He doesn’t know what the General’s face means, but it’s a different look from the ones he’s had so far. It doesn’t seem good, at all. “No,” he says shortly. Dogma flinches. This, _this_ must be where the line is.

He’s a little stunned, the General flinches too. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” The General sighs and tugs roughly at his unbound hair. He has waves, like Tup’s, but looser. “No, it’s not a refresher. No, I didn’t know this stuff before. Yes, I really _really_ should have. It’s important.”

Dogma nods politely and mentally disagrees. It’s not important: it’s _vital_. If you don’t know the protocol, how do you… _function_?

“They don’t teach Jedi this stuff,” the General says, and even Dogma can pick up the hint of bitterness. “They just come up to you one day and say here’s a couple hundred lives, try not to kriff it up.”

The page he was on when he gave Dogma his ‘pad is one on medium-sized squad tactics in response to a suspected ambush site. The General has covered the descriptions of defensive formations with notes. A lot of them are questions. There are a lot of ‘whys’.

The General doesn’t understand when to use diamond formations or why you would want to do that instead of a flat front. No one’s ever told him. And he’s been leading Torrent into combat for years.

“Yeah,” the General says, and now he just sounds tired. He smiles at whatever face Dogma’s making, and it’s not a happy smile. “You understand. I’m lucky, I’m willing to cheat. Make Rex make the plans. I can’t always rely on that though. I _shouldn’t_.”

And what is left unsaid is that there are other Jedi who _aren’t_ willing to ‘cheat’, to ask advice from soldiers who understand military protocol. Strategy. Squad formations.

Suddenly, Dogma thinks he might understand a little why it might be important who is giving an order.

Is this how everyone else sees things? In all these shades? Dogma doesn’t like it. But what can he do? The Officers want them all to look at things like this, even when Dogma doesn’t want to. Even when it’d be easier…

Dogma doesn’t want to think about things in degrees. He doesn’t want to, because it’s hard and he doesn’t like it. But Captain Rex’s Torrent doesn’t want soldiers; Lt Hardcase has been trying to tell them that since the beginning. Torrent doesn’t want soldiers, they want warriors. And what warrior shuns something just because it’s hard? What would that make Dogma?

Dogma has to adjust, if he wants to fit. It’s been nearly two years and he can still feel where his edges and Torrent’s grate. He hates it.

He clenches his teeth, shoves himself to sitting up straight.

“Help me,” he demands. The words are out before the thoughts are formed but he refuses to take it back. “I can’t _think_ like you do. You. Fives says you’re-” Abruptly Dogma self-censors. “-Creative.”

The General cackles anyway, as if he’d heard what Dogma almost accidentally insinuated about his mental capability. Fives and Echo both spend a lot of time mocking, no, teasing him about that. Dogma’s gone cold every time, but they’ve never been reprimanded.

“The LTs say we need to think about problems from _different angles_ and that doesn’t even make sense. They say I can do it, that it’s the same thing I do when I’m analyzing reports but it’s _not_ and I can’t make that connection. Help me, and I’ll translate this for you.” He gestures with the General’s holopad. “They’re written in protocol speech, but I have them all memorized and I can put it in plain Basic. It. It’ll help, I think, if the words are right.”

It’s the most Dogma’s ever said to any officer who wasn’t Lt. Jesse. He can’t bring himself to regret it, even if he’s to be reprimanded for impertinence.

“Deal,” the General says before Dogma has even a second to start to doubt. Decisive, immediate, Dogma’s a little jealous at how quickly he can make decisions. Maybe he could help Dogma work on that, too. “If I see another ‘henceforth’ or ‘hithertofore’ I’m going to find an airlock.”

They laugh, a little. It’s… it’s good, a little like laughing with a brother, but better because maybe both of them don’t know some things everyone else knows as basic. It’s nice, not being the only one that doesn’t just get things. Dogma doesn’t know if the General can read minds like some people say, but he vows silently that he’ll never share the General’s secret, that he’ll do his best to cover for the things he knows that the General doesn’t yet. People judge Dogma all the time, for not knowing how to do things. He won’t let them do it to Torrent’s Jedi.

The General smiles, and it’s a nicer smile. Something about it, though, gives Dogma pause. Something about it, he’s not sure he should trust.

“You can call me Anakin if you want? Since we’re at the ‘showing each other ours’ stage already.” Dogma had forgotten. The General is friends with Fives and Echo now. They’ve _infected him_.

Dogma doesn’t know what his face does, but he knows it’s not good. The General _howls_.


End file.
